


The Epic Puke

by seasick_shanty



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emetophilia, Sickfic, Vomit, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasick_shanty/pseuds/seasick_shanty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small belch passed through his lips, followed by a gag and a somewhat impressive heave that brought forth a river of vomit that landed in the toilet with a splash like a tidal wave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Epic Puke

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the YouTube video of the same name. No, I do not know the people in the video and have taken some creative liberty in making things up.

He was squatting in front of the toilet, dressed in flannel pajamas and his blue hoodie that sported the name of the university his sister attended before she dropped out.

He'd been like this for what seemed like hours, his knees shaky from having to support him this way for so long. 

It must have been something he ate, for that seemed the only likely explanation for how he felt. It had come on suddenly--he had been lying on his bed while his sister played video games on the floor beside him. First, his stomach began to rumble, enough so that his sister told him that the sound of it was making her lose her concentration (after all, playing the role of a 2-dimensional sniper required your full attention). Next, was the nausea. It was a vague feeling, like maybe the boy had a giant fart stuck in his intestines and all he needed was to let it out.

Lastly, and quite unexpectedly, he belched, loudly and forcefully. His nausea took on an entirely different feeling than before; his stomach felt like it was trapped in an airplane being jostled around by wild turbulence. 

He knew what was coming next.

So, the bathroom was where he positioned himself fifteen minutes ago, the very idea of expelling his stomach contents into the toilet becoming increasingly more welcomed, despite how disgusting it would be.

And DID he feel disgusting. Since arriving in the bathroom, he had developed intense chills and he was now covered from head to toe in icy cold sweat. His body shook, both from the chills and the escalating pressure he felt in his abdomen. If that weren't bad enough, his stomach now felt like it was lost at sea--trapped in a high velocity whirlpool, spinning and spinning and spinning with no hope of ever letting up.

His sister, in the meantime, stood vigil at the doorway. She too held her arms around her middle, but in her case, it was to keep the laughter from splitting her in two. She found the whole ordeal hilarious and even held her cellphone in her hand, ready to record her brother when he spewed into the toilet. She said she had plans to humiliate him later, perhaps at their next family gathering.

The boy spit a few times into the toilet, trying to rid his mouth of the excess saliva that was starting to take on a roasted turkey flavor. His stomach clenched and he let out something that sounded like the cross between a hiccup and a gag.

He sat up a little straighter, rather, doing the best he could while doubling over every time he felt like he was being punched in the gut. The urge to gag came on in waves seconds apart, not nearly long enough for him to even think about relaxing. When a particularly powerful force pushed itself against his stomach and he felt something beginning to crawl its way up his throat, he leaned further over the toilet without actually burying his face in it.

His sister was no help. Having been through the same thing several times after binge drinking at frat parties during her college days, she had no room in her heart to show her brother any sympathy. The boy didn't mind much (had he the mind to think about such trivial things); he would have worried if she had shown some concern. Instead, he tried to pretend that she wasn't still pointing her phone in his direction as she stood in the doorway.

A fresh feeling of nausea washed over him and that's when he knew that this was it. A small belch passed through his lips, followed by a gag and a somewhat impressive heave that brought forth a river of vomit that landed in the toilet with a splash like a tidal wave. A few cough-like heaves came next that ejected a fair amount of vomit from his mouth as well as his nose. He had just enough time to take a few shuddering breaths and mutter a quick 'oh my God' before another round of vomiting overtook him.

His body grew cold as he quickly became drenched in a feverish sweat, but he knew his face was red as he felt his cheeks burn with the intensity of his gags.

'Are you okay?' 

He had stopped being sick for now, his retching bringing up nothing but frothy acidic spit from the bottom of his stomach. His sister was there, he remembered that now that he could hear her speak over the roaring in his ears that could almost block out the earlier sounds of him vomiting. Almost.

His sister sounded...was that concern in her voice? After all, he had thrown up A LOT.

He shook his head slowly, not yet daring to open his mouth and speak. He shuddered as a drop of cool sweat ran down the length of his back, making him grateful for the hoodie. Too bad that didn't change how miserable he was.

The boy choked out a couple more streams of vomit before it tapered off into painful dry heaves and eventually just to spitting. He remained where he was while he tried to catch his breath and make his surroundings stop spinning. He wanted to lay his head against the toilet seat, relishing the cool sensation he knew it would provide to his now overheating body. He was shaky, definitely feverish. But while comforting, he knew his impromptu pillow would never compare to the real thing.

With trembling hands, he reached for a sheet of toilet paper to wipe his mouth, his nose, his chin, and probably the front of his clothes. Disposing of that, he lifted his arm to flush the evidence of those horrifying past 20 minutes. The sheer amount of vomit clogged the toilet. Unable to handle anything else going wrong, the boy fell back onto his bottom and laid his head back against the shower door. He must have blacked out for a minute, because the next thing he knew, his sister was at his side, pulling him off the floor and putting most of his weight on her shoulders. 

'I'll handle it,' she said referring to the backed up plumbing.

She helped him climb into bed, but not before he insisted on changing out of his hoodie that he swore was suffocating him and into a more comfortable, breathable T-shirt. 

He lay there in bed, still nauseated, but the feeling was nowhere near as powerful was before. He hoped that it was at a manageable enough level that he could mostly ignore it and go to sleep. And sleep he did.

That is, until he woke up a few hours later and resumed his position in front of the toilet.


End file.
